


Closest Thing

by orphan_account



Series: come back alive [2]
Category: Dredd (2012)
Genre: Banter, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Late Night Conversations, Scars, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 09:59:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to “Still Alive.” Dredd and Volkova talk, late into the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closest Thing

**Author's Note:**

> So I had been pondering a sequel, and a lovely commenter came to ask me about one, and all it took was one plot bunny for this one to be born! Written in the wee hours of the morning on an iPhone, so please forgive any potential errors. As per usual, Dredd never belonged to me. -sigh- Enjoy!

When he opens his eyes, her hand is trailing slowly over his abdomen- fingers lightly tracing the faded mark of an old scar on his chest, snarling from collarbone almost to nipple; an attack long ago from an improvised shank. He stirs, with a deep breath, covers her hand with his own and closes his fingers- breaking her point of contact with the spot, and looking to her face, propped up as it was on his shoulder.

 

“You ended up hunting down that one.”

 

“I did,” she said, quietly, hands though removed from the scar, still tracing it with her eyes. “As soon as the call came in I diverted to his trail. Cornered him in a back alley and got him with a stunner round while he was trying to climb up a wrought iron fence.” Her hand tightened in his, her brows furrowed marginally.

 

“What’d you do?” he asks her, quietly. He’s never heard the story in full; just that the criminal in question had been ‘disposed of’, according to the doctors attending him when he woke back up at headquarters. As he and she both knew, though, there were plenty of ways to dispose of someone.

 

“Put my boot on his throat and choked him to death,” she answered, softly.

 

He blinks, into the dark. “And you were there when I woke up.”

 

She shifts under the covers, lifts her head from his shoulder to tuck her body under his arm, which he wraps around her, pulling her to his side. “So you remember that.”

 

“I always remembered you,” he says, plain and simple. No better way to tell it then how it is, he figures.

 

Unfortunately, that has the added side effect of making her smirk- he doesn’t see it so much as feel it where her cheek is pressed to his side. “If you were gone, who else was I going to take out all of my pent-up frustration on?”

 

“You could have found someone,” he tells her, quite honestly. “You had half of academy panting after you.”

 

“But no one else’s got your irresistible charm,” she quips. It’s the closest thing to an ‘I love you’ from her, he supposes. Her hand was crossing his belly again, setting his nerves to tingling before she finds what she’s looking for- a slightly older mark than the first, a faded weal twisting across his side.

 

“You worried about if I live or die?”

 

“I always worry,” she murmurs, echoing his earlier sentiment. “Every day. Every patrol could be the last, every bullet could be the one. And every day I wait for that message to come in.” Her fingers halt suddenly, and skim up his ribs to his pulse point, palm splaying over the steady, living rhythm. “One day it isn’t going to come, and I’ll be putting you in the ground. Or putting your medals into the ground, if there isn’t anything else left.” A long silence. “I know all that, and I’m still afraid.” Another pause. “As long as I can remember you’ve been here. Trying to imagine without you…I guess Peach Trees came too close.” She nuzzles in closer, and he rolls onto his side to pull her even tighter close, rest his forehead on hers. She’s an island in the middle of a storm, she’s his immovable center, his steadying breath.

 

“I’d probably miss your backsass,” he says, “Eventually.” It’s the closest he knows to ‘I love you’, he supposes.

 

She shifts her head on the pillows, cranes her neck to look at him in the dark. She traces fingers briefly over his face, and the lines there, cards them through his hair, carrying a few strands of grey.

 

“I guess I’d miss you too, Volkova,” he amends, softer.

 

She moves closer and presses her lips to his, chaster, her fingers curling around his bicep. He clings to her, and she to him; allowing themselves just a few moments.

 

“Dredd,” she murmurs, after they break apart, foreheads still touching.

 

A pause. He makes a questioning noise, prompting her to go on.

 

“You come back here after patrol. You’d probably message me and tell me you’re fine with an arm missing and blood coming out of your eyeballs.” She scowls at him. “Come back here from now on. If you get yourself killed I’m not going to forgive you.” It’s the closest thing to proposing, he supposes.

 

“As long as you’re waiting,” he concedes.

 

“What the hell else would I do?” she asks him, brows furrowing vaguely in the ‘stupid man’ face he knows all too well. She settles farther into her side of the bed- and isn’t that a tell; she’s had her own damn side the past fifteen years, how afraid of commitment can one man be?

 

He keeps a point of contact, a hand resting on her waist, arm slung over her slight frame, reassuring her she’s there, warm, breathing. Perhaps that’s what they truly needed, in way of reassurance. Flesh and blood ran so much deeper than words, perhaps that that contact in itself spoke the same message in the end.

 

“Natalya?” he speaks up, after a long moment, not even sure she’s awake anymore.

 

There’s a long enough stretch in her hesitation that he thinks, for a moment, she’s asleep again. “Joseph?” she answers, with some caution.

 

His hand tightens on her. “You won’t remember this in the morning. I love you.”

 

There’s a long moment in answering. “You won’t either. I always have.”

 

When morning truly comes, he wakes with his arm still around her, but she’s turned toward him now, curled up safely, peacefully asleep. She’s stirring a little when he opens his eyes, and he watches her a moment before leaning down and putting them nose to nose. She stills, lips twitching when he’s close enough, and he closes the distance, pressing their lips softly together. The moment only lasts a few seconds, before she shoves him back and rolls onto her side, eyes still closed. “Were you gargling dog shit last night? Go brush your teeth.”

 

He’ll deny it to his grave, but Joseph Dredd almost had the ghost of a smile on his face as he got up out of bed.


End file.
